


Malum in se

by swaneewhistleandkazoo



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Tina Goldstein, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Crime Scenes, Death, F/M, Face Punching, Friendship, Gap Filler, How Tina ended up in Paris, Investigations, Magical Mafia, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Pre-Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, Sister-Sister Relationship, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23496145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swaneewhistleandkazoo/pseuds/swaneewhistleandkazoo
Summary: Malum In Se - Acts that society judges as being inherently wrong, or even evil, whether or not laws have been enacted regarding them such things as murder.A murder in New York will lead Tina on the trail of a missing child with international consequences.
Relationships: Queenie Goldstein/Jacob Kowalski, Tina Goldstein/Newt Scamander
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Malum in se

Maybe because it’s nearly midnight or because Tina is curled up, long limbs tucked up comfortably in an armchair lost deep in thought, but the dancing flames in the hearth she’s staring at are oddly hypnotic. Twisting and contorting in constant motion as the fire gnawed at the coal, throwing warm orange light and strange shadows around the empty sitting room. Like so many other Aurors, she’d worked around the clock in the last week since Grindelwald escaped barely stopping to eat or sleep properly. 

  
Queenie still hasn’t come home from wherever she’s at, probably with Jacob and skirting dangerously close the breaking the law. The apartment felt larger and colder, lonelier, without her sister there, devoid of the warmth of love and family.

She felt her brown furrow pensively, it isn't that she doesn't like Jacob; she's very fond of her would be brother in law, he's a good man, who loves her sister and is delighted that the Swooping Evil's venom didn't take away his precious memories of magic. In fact she wouldn’t want anyone else for her sister, wizard or No-maj alike. But the problem remained it was against MACUSA law. A stupid law, she agreed with Queenie wholeheartedly in that regard but a law still enforced with heavy penalties, a fine or even a prison sentence for repeated violator of it and if they were caught it was liable to destroy both of their poor hearts. Jacob would be obliviated and Queenie imprisoned in a literal hell hole of their prison system with barely enough space to lie down or stand properly.

Month's ago she'd found the written warning and fine stuffed behind the bread bin which had lead to a blow up argument with her sister. 

A month ago she'd found yet another fine, a distinctly heftier one which meant Queenie had been caught since that first fine and had just hidden it from her a little better that time. 

Last week she'd found a another fine and summons for a hearing and her blood had run cold.

The dread pounding in her head for Queenie’s sake was pretty much a constant companion these days.

For a moment the flames went blurry and her eyes stung, feeling gritty with tiredness. With a heavy sigh she kneaded away the burning sensation with the heel of her hand and grimaced still churning over the problem in her mind.

As much as the turmoil her sisters predicament is causing her it’s still preferable to think about instead of the problem that she held in her hand. 

The parchment envelope is smooth and thick under her fingers and she can feel the little indents of where Newt has pressed with his quill writing her name and address in his familiar scrawl. It’s been weeks since she found out about him being engaged, since he insulted her and her job and she stopped writing back to him and still his letter’s keep coming like clockwork caused her heart to give a funny little leap of joy and her stomach to drop to her boots with sadness and a deep jagged hurt.

Despite everything she went out and brought his book, Fantastic Beasts and where to find them, when it was released. A little touched, despite everything that he’d named it similar to the throw away comment she’d made when they’d said goodbye at the docks. Maybe he’d just thought it was a good title after all he’d told her that he’d be stumped on what to call it and made her laugh with some of the pompous suggestions his editor had made. 

It sits on the bookshelf next to her father’s battered old letter case where she stores Newt’s letters, read and unread. Unlike his most recent letters she’s read his book from cover to cover over and over again. It’s like the few days he stayed with them after Grindelwald’s capture and they just talked in his case. 

She can still picture him sitting opposite her at the table, a cup of coffee which remained undrunk, clutched in his hands. Recounting to her about his creatures, his book and some of his more humorous adventures. Occasionally gesticulating wildly on points he felt strongly about. It was wonderful to see him so open and shedding the ever present awkwardness set in his shoulder. His expression had been alive with his enthusiasm, his green eyes glinting rapturously, enraptured at her expression from under his lashes before he’d blushed a faint pink bloom on his cheekbones before glancing away.

Some of the stories and creatures in his book are one’s he hadn’t told her yet, the beating creatures of him with his traveling kettle was one she was particularly interested in hearing and probably would never know now. 

She missed him. 

Almost without meaning too she traced along the gap of the envelope towards the wax seal, the rough texture rasping against the tip of her finger. It would take so little to break it and read what he’d sent her and feel their connection again as she had in the execution chamber and at the docks when he’d gently stroked her cheek and promised to come back and see her.  
She should throw Newt’s letter in the fire and be done with this thing. Close this chapter of her life as over and done with, lesson learnt and move on. But she can’t, he’s the first person she ever really fell for, and as much as it hurts her their defunct relationship is also something she treasures. 

Love sucks.

_Does Leta Lestrange like to read?_

_I don’t really know what Leta likes to read these days._

Anger is bitter on her tongue and she has to swallow hard past the lump in her throat because she refuses to cry over someone who would lie to her. Clenching her hand into a fist, crushing the letter she’s just teetering on the edge of hurtling it into the bowls of the hearth when a heavy thumping at their door, wrenches her from her brooding causing her to nearly jump out of her skin.  
Startled and half way out of her chair causes her grip to on Newt’s letter slips and the edge of the letter cuts deep into the side of her index finger making her yelp in surprise and pain. Instantly stinging blood pools in the cut and starts to drip down towards her wrist. With a muffled curse she stuck her wounded finger in her mouth to sooth it, the coppery tang of blood coating her tongue, tossed Newt’s offending letter with a dirty look on the kitchen table and hurried over to the door. 

Despite Mrs Esposito rules, being an Auror means that Tina has a wide range of colleagues, both male and female, dropping in randomly at all hours. She's irked at how loud this late night visitor is being over the years Queenie’s gotten used to the random knocking at the door and can sleep through pretty much anything however Mrs Esposito has become an increasingly light sleeper and sticking her unwelcome judgemental long nose into her business. In truth she’s beginning to think that Mrs Esposito thinks she runs a house of ill-reputed or some other criminal enterprise because she’s either more out the house than in it or having clandestine whispered meetings with strangers when she is home.

And the nosy old bat is increasingly cornering her with rigorous interrogations when she come’s home or “happens to be dropping by/going out/collecting the mail” when importune search grids and being hashed out. 

At least if she did get captured by Grindelwald she’d wouldn’t give any information away, she always thought sardonically to herself, because she got enough practices evading invading questions from Mrs Esposito, Grindelwald could hold a candle to the manipulations of that women.

Honestly it would be funny if it was happening to someone else and she didn’t have to keep oblivating her landlady because she’s a nosy busybody. 

Cautiously she approached the door, wand drawn and held loosely ready to attach or defend. As an Auror she’s made a few enemies, Grindlewald’s followers only being the most recent additions to the list and anyone of them would love to catch her off guard and get revenge for whichever of their criminal relatives/bosses/friends she’d put away.

Frowning as she peered through the peephole and threw open the door.

On the threshold, leaning on a cane but radiating aggressive purpose stood her captain; Graves had changed since his imprisonment and torture by Grindlewald and his Acolytes. He was leaner with deep lines marking his face and the ordeal had left more grey in his hair. Likewise his personality had changed, her boss was professional still but he was more on apprehensive now, almost jittery and the strain his experience had had on him made her boss more prone to lashing out. 

As always conflicting emotions rose up in her chest whenever she saw him now. On one hand he was the same as he always had been; her boss who she admired and was desperate for his approval, her mentor who’d seen something in her as a rookie that she couldn’t see in herself and taken her under his wing and guided her, trained her, chosen her. Yet at the same time he’d demoted her, belittled and kicked her aside like an unwanted dog, tried to execute her and Newt someone she lo… cared about, she’d had to duel him, her friend and mentor because he was about to harm a terrified boy. Intellectually she knew it was a different man, who’d done those terrible things to them, someone wearing his face. But their relationship had changed and she had a cold feeling that it was damaged beyond repair, that she would never be able to fully trust him again despite as much as she felt he wanted her to.

“Goldstein.” He inclined his head at her slightly, which she knew was all she was going to get for both a greeting and an apology for ruining her night of sleep and for whatever gruesome crime scene he was going to assign her to now.

“Sir” She greeted tersely him, tamping down her irritation and hoping her damnedest that her red eyes would be mistaken for tiredness instead of near tears. “What can I do for you?” 

“This is case is classed confidential and it stays between you, me and the President, Goldstein.” He pushed past her uninvited into her apartment and shut the door with a resounding click, it felt like her fate had been sealed. “I need a secondary investigator on this one, someone I trust, this was assigned to us by Madam President herself.”

He turned to glare at her making in her small kitchen feel even smaller. “A body turned up in the docklands there’s a Grindelwald connection.” To her surprise he actually shifted uncomfortably, this was a man who she’d worked with for years and had seen forensically examine the most horrific crimes scenes expressionlessly, dispassionate, looking almost bored at times. He looked at her grimly.  
“When I was…” He coughed hoarsely clearing his throat uncomfortably, the muscles in his jaw clenched and she noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. “…they left marks like that on me.”

Disturbed she had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from sating something reassuring because she knew he’d only take it as pity. 

Insecurity, her old unwelcome friend, raises its ugly head and she can’t help but ask him. “Why me, Sir?” 

“Because you never trusted Grindelwald even when he was pretending me” He waved his hands dismissively at her protest “and you fouled up his plans at every step, attacking Ma Barebone, working with Scamander and his travelling circus to expose him and protect that poor boy.” 

Creedence, it still hurt to think about the poor lad, abused and alone, and repeatedly torment herself by mulling over the many ways she’d failed him.

His hooded eyes glittered darkly “And I know you’d never be turned by his silver tongue and…” she’s about to protest that anyone can be turned with the right promises but he continued almost pleadingly “…You are the only one I trust.”

His words made the hair on the back of her neck prickly uncomfortably, he’s paranoid now especially after Abernathy’s, that slimy discredit to toads, betrayal and Grindlewald’s escape, they all are now. Distrust has been sown within the MACUSA and now no one is certain of anyone’s loyalties anymore.

“Alright” She murmurs trying not to look at the brief flash of relief that crosses Graves’ gaunt face “Let me get my coat.”

This is how Aurors burnt out she thought cheerlessly; they take on too much, get personally involved in cases until their rung out and shot full of nerves. She’s exhausted inside and out and yet the idea of work, solving somebody else’s problem is somehow easier than trying to sort out the mess of her own life. Already anticipation of the challenge is coiling in her gut, sending energy burning through her limb and her mind is starting to race considering the implications and tasks to do when she reaches the scene falling into the familiar mind-set of work. 

This she can do, she’s not helpless here. Making the world a little safer, something she can actually change.

Her leather duster is where she left it when she came home, tossed carelessly over the back of a kitchen chair as she’d searched the apartment for her sister as she did every day with ever fading hope that this time, this time she’d be home and they could talk like they used to. Most people freak out when they realise that Queenie is a legilimens but to Tina, she can’t remember a time when Queenie read her thoughts which why it’s even more cutting that they can’t understand each other now. 

Her eyes linger on Newt’s crumpled letter lying forlornly where she tossed it a moment ago. With the tip of her injured finger she followed the lines and loops of his handwriting, the letter is thick he’d obviously spent a lot of time writing it to her. The sensible thing to do would be to burn it but something inside of her aches at the thought of loss of at least the option to read it in case she changes her mind. Wavering in her resolve she scooped it up and carefully smoothed out its rumpled creases. She can’t get rid of it. Decision made Tina strode into the living room and opened her and took her father’s leather writing cases of the bookshelf and opened it carefully wary of the worn and fragile sides and gently place Newt’s letter on top of all the other’s he’d sent her, closed the writing case and hugged it to her chest for a moment.

Back in the kitchen she picked up her duster and palmed the pad of paper, quill and ink she and Queenie use to write notes of where they were going to keep track of each other. It’s blank, barren of any indication of what Queenie was planning to do tonight. It’s a reassurance they’ve done since they were kids and it smarts that Queenie has abandoned it and for a moment a vindictive part of her wants to leave without a note and let Queenie worry if she’s safe or not. 

She couldn’t do that, not to her sister. So after noting the time and date as Queenie has been disappearing for days at a time now and scrawled, _Crime Scene_ , in untidy letters. For a moment quill still poised, chewing her lip as she thought about writing something else like, _I miss you,_ _Please talk to me or I’m not mad I’m just worried_ or even just an _I love you, stay safe_.

But it probably wouldn’t change anything so shaking her head slightly she strode out of her apartment swinging her duster on, feeling the familiar weight settle on her shoulders and belted it before joining her boss who with a single approving look marched of down the stairs.

Beady eyes peek around the doorway eagerly devouring her and Graves and resignedly she drew her wand and flicked it with a muttered “Oblivate.”

She'd hoped Mrs Esposito will find another person to spy on soon, she really doesn’t want to give her landlady brain damage or find another apartment.Once behind the building Graves’ gave her the address of the crime scene in low tones before vanishing with a loud crack. The night air was fresh and it felt good to pause for a moment just to breath in it, she loved the city at night the hustle and bustle of the day gone and it’s suddenly still. Tilting her head back slightly, hair brushing around her ears she gazed up at the almost full moon, silver and shining serenely in the night sky and tried to find answers in its kindly silver face.

  
The moon had no answers forthcoming so with a rueful shake of her head she resolved herself and disapperated to the address.

  
Work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> I always wondered how Tina ended up in Paris and how they found out Creedence was still alive. This is my attempt to fill in the gaps. 
> 
> I'm not sure how long this is going to be there are going to be so chapter count may change.
> 
> Your comments and Kudos are always deeply appreciated.


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